


Five times James Hetfield was happy

by al_coholica



Series: Little Rocker [3]
Category: Metallica
Genre: Alternate Universe, Early 80s, Fluff, Happy, Idiots in Love, James loves his smol husband so much, M/M, Memories, Post Mpreg, SO MUCH FLUFF, child birth, it's sickening, just disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_coholica/pseuds/al_coholica
Summary: Help I can't stop please





	Five times James Hetfield was happy

**Author's Note:**

> Help I can't stop please

There had only been a few moments in James' life where he had been completely happy.

The first moment was when he first picked up his guitar, and the liberating freedom that came with it was intoxicating. The sounds and melodies it sung to him every time he delicately plucked the strings, it was enough to make the hair rise on his neck. 

The second time was when he first saw Lars. 

James smiled to himself, remembering the moment so vividly he could reach out and touch it. Guitar in hand, standing on the stoop of a wealthy mans house, thirsting to become something big with his talent. The door opened and- James sighed- he was blown away instantly. 

Green eyes.

Soft brown hair curling past shoulders.

Creamy skin. 

He could remember how dry his mouth got, how much his heart thundered in his chest, how sweaty his palms got. Perfect lips curled into a smile, and a hand shot out to him. 

"You must be James!" He said, his voice sweeter than any note James had made his guitar play. They shook hands, James still shocked to this very day that he kept eye contact the whole time. He followed Lars around the house, checking out the things rich people owned, his head filling up with all the words his host was saying.

They were important, no matter how stupid they were, they were important. To James, to the universe he lived in. He happily drank in every syllable that ran off of Lars' tongue, no matter how useless they were. 

They shared dreams, James and Lars, they shared dreams of fame and fortune, dreams of selling millions upon millions of albums, dreams of being the greatest rock and roll band ever imaginable. They played together, with a cymbal falling off of the drum kit every now and then, giggles and small apologies for wrong notes or just gravity in general. 

They listened to music, music James had never even heard of. But Lars promised it was good, and James instantly trusted him on that. He instantly trusted him with anything. 

The third time was when they found out about the baby. 

Lars lay in bed, in nothing but a old flannel of James' and underwear, stroking his boyfriends hair lovingly. James looked up at Lars from his position at his waist. Right above his baby. 

Lars' stomach was still flat, a hollow pit that every now and then James would kiss, nuzzling his nose against the soft flesh and whispering 'thank you' over and over until the words felt foreign on his tongue. 

His lover smiled, twirling his fingers through long, blond hair, sighing softly. God, James could just live in this moment forever. 

He nuzzled his nose against the soft skin, inhaling deeply, letting himself get drunk on the scent. He could differentiate between his own and Lars', the tobacco and beer, the sea air and the dark earth of woods he grew up in.

It was warm, and it was strong, and _God,_ the way it stained his lovers skin made his stomach flip. He groaned tiredly, letting his lips turn into a hazy smile. 

"What are you going on about, min stjerne?" Lars breathed, letting his fingers brush up against James temple and cheekbone, igniting sparks. James shook his head, slowly looking up, strains of hair falling from his face. 

"I fucking love you so much," he admitted, earning a giggle.

"Ah ah ah!" Lars poked James' nose playfully, giving him a loving scowl, "Don't use that kind of language around the baby, mister." 

James then attacked him with kisses, smothering him with all the love and affection he could muster. He was gonna be a dad. 

The fourth time, respectively, was his wedding. 

He stood across from Lars, with a white button-up shirt and hole less jeans (it took him forever to find a pair that was not abused and torn) on, his palms sweating. Sure, all this was was a courthouse wedding, all they could afford, but he was still nervous as hell. 

Besides, he always got a little heated whenever he saw his one and only. 

Lars stood with a flower crown across his head (the flowers coming from the bush outside), his hands trembling as he held his vows that were scribbled across a yellow notepad sheet and nervously waiting for his turn to speak.

"My Lars," James spoke up, fumbling with his hands, "I don't really know how I managed to make it nineteen years without you by my side. It's honestly been nothing but grey and storm clouds before I met you, then after that it was nothing but the clearest blue skies, and I feel like I can actually see the world for the very first time. I promise to love you and honor you, I promise to protect you and cherish you. And lastly, I just wanna say this: thank you for saving my life, and thank you for giving me the life I had always wanted."

Tears were streaming down both of their faces already, hell, even the lady behind the glass seemed a bit teary eyed. James slipped the ring onto his own personal light, instantly loving the way it looked on him. 

"James," Lars sighed, looking at his paper, "I remember feeling unconditional love the very first time I met you, I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to hold you in my arms and never, _ever_ let you go. After these two years with you, and after these seven months of having the honor of carrying your child, I can legitimately say that I have never felt this happy in my entire life. I'm so excited to start this journey everyday with you for the rest of our lives. I promise to be your home, I promise to love and respect you, and more importantly, I promise to bring you happiness."

"Please just kiss already."

The two boys turned to see the woman, her hands up against her mouth as tears ran down her time-worn cheeks. 

"I'm sorry it's just I have never seen something more wholesome in my life, just- I can't," she sniffed, a smile spreading across her trembling lips. Both boys gave tear-filled laughs, wiping their faces. Lars slid his ring onto his one and only man, and while the old woman cheered behind the glass, they met in a tender kiss, James' hands instantly going to the bump Lars was sporting so effortlessly. 

Now, the fifth, but definitely not the last time was now.

He smiled down at his new born son, his breath taken away. 

Joel Hetfield-Ulrich was born on October 2nd, 1982, weighing 8 pound and 8 ounces, and measuring up to 20 inches. He looked up to his dad curiously, bright, blue eyes studying him. 

"Hey buddy," James cooed, rocking him lightly in his arms, "I'm sorry I woke you from your nap, but," his eyes flicked up to Lars, who was laying delicately in bed, napping, "I was just thinking about all those good times between me and your daddy." 

Joel blinked, his tiny hands flexing against his chest. 

"I'm so happy you're finally here, little man. I'm gonna just shower you with so much love, you won't know what hit you, so you better watch your back." James looked up when he heard Lars laughing softly, his tired eyes half-lidded. 

"I'm glad our son is gonna be paranoid all his life," he joked, sitting himself up in bed. James chuckled and carried his son- God that felt good to say- over to his husband, who happily accepted him. 

"You did good bringing him here, babe, I'm so proud of you."

"I couldn't have done without you."

"That is true," James agreed, sitting himself into the plastic chair next to the bed, watching fondly as Lars cradled his boy close to his chest, "He looks so much like you, he's got your nose."

"You think so?" Lars asked, briefly glancing at James, "He's got your eyes, though."

James sighed happily, content with the sight in front of him.

His lovely, little husband, cradling their newborn boy tenderly. He smiled, ruling out that this was the happiest he'd ever been in his life.


End file.
